


It's not about participating, it's about winning

by Tommykaine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy is a Brat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Non-Consensual Tickling, Punishment, Translation, but we love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 01:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18713764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommykaine/pseuds/Tommykaine
Summary: Marcus Flint had been sitting down on the bench since the beginning.«I should kick you out of the team» he told Draco coldly once the changing room had emptied. «The damn Snitch was one metre away from your eyes... it was fucking flying in front of you and you managed to miss it!»Draco felt his stomach clench from the remorse, the shame and from his anger towards Potter.The only way he knew how to react was always and only by attacking, projecting a confidence that, in the vast majority of times, he didn't even feel.«You can't kick me out», he claimed. «The only reason why you have these new brooms is because my father bought them for the team. If you kicked me out, he'd take them back!»That was the wrong thing to say.





	It's not about participating, it's about winning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PetsHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetsHeart/gifts).
  * A translation of [L'importante è vincere, non partecipare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030011) by [PetsHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetsHeart/pseuds/PetsHeart). 



> Original Author Notes:
> 
> For this story, you can only blame those who Dared me.  
> Pairing: none, or hinted Drarry  
> Prompt: Tickling. Slytherin Punishment. Possibly in the Quidditch's changing rooms.
> 
> It's been a long time since I last wrote a fanfiction and, certainly, I didn't think I'd do it for this Fandom; one I only discovered recently, despite belonging to the generation who read HP at the same time as it came out.  
> Roxane is the one who came up with the Prompt, but for the idea per se I have Nonaemex to thank. Not in the way she might think, also because she doesn't write this kind of stories. However while reading her works I started to think "How would Lucius react if Draco became victim of a bullying incident that got out of hand?" and that's where I got the inspiration for this fanfiction. Even though here Lucius doesn't even find out anything. But that's fine. I don't expect to fully understand my own twisted thought processes.
> 
> \-----
> 
> Translator Notes: This was an interesting story to translate, it's a topic I never dealt with so I was quite curious to try my hand at it.

 

Harry Potter had caught the Snitch less than five minutes after the start of the game.

Before he went out in the field, Draco had been full of excitement as he dressed himself in the changing room – thinking of how the Slytherin team was going to fly on the latest broomstick model thanks to him, so he _couldn't_ not win. Sure, that was what happened during the first game, but that had been all because of that out-of-control Bludger... besides, seeing Potter with a boneless arm had been entertaining enough to overshadow their defeat. But now, with no hexed balls in the way, they were going to win. Guaranteed.

Afterwards, he came in to get changed with his head hung low, acutely aware of the accusatory glares of his teammates.

Even when he was shouldered several times – and one of those had been violent enough to toss him against the wall – he stayed silent, biting his lips to hold back from reacting. Almost all the boys threw their brooms on the floors and left with their jaws clenched.

Marcus Flint had been sitting down on the bench since the beginning.

«I should kick you out of the team» he told Draco coldly once the changing room had emptied. «The damn Snitch was one metre away from your eyes... it was fucking flying in front of you and you managed to miss it!»

Draco felt his stomach clench from the remorse, the shame and from his anger towards Potter.

The only way he knew how to react was always and only by attacking, projecting a confidence that, in the vast majority of times, he didn't even feel.

«You can't kick me out», he claimed. «The only reason why you have these new brooms is because _my_ father bought them for the team. If you kicked me out, he'd take them back!»

That was the wrong thing to say. Draco realized that with a cold shiver the moment Flint's eyes darkened in anger. As he did, the two Beaters left in the changing room also clenched their teeth. So Draco opened his mouth to correct himself – not to apologize, he'd never apologized to anyone that wasn't his father – but the other boy was faster. In a moment he'd gotten close and placed one hand under his chin, forcing him to raise his head.

«You really don't get how these things work, do you, little Malfoy?»

Draco blushed in irritation. He knew he was by far the youngest one in the team, not to mention naturally lean and still far from his growth spurt, but he hated that his teammates held it against him in the worst moments. _But they didn't complain about me while they clutched their new brooms_ , he thought with resentment.

Usually he tolerated Flint's sarcasm simply because he loved to fly and had desired to get that spot in the team since he was a little kid, while now he hated him with an intensity made stronger, in part, by the burning awareness that it _was_ in fact his fault if they had lost. His, and Potter's, who always had to get his way every damn time.

«Kick me out then!» he provoked the Captain. «And once my father hears about it...»

He couldn't finish his threat, nor try to leave, before the three boys moved simultaneously against him. They threw him on the bench and, while two of them pulled his arms above his head, Flint murmured a quick spell to take off his shirt.

«Don't you dare touch me!» Draco yelled.

As a response, Flint held his legs down and pressed his knee between his thighs. «You're a little spoiled brat, aren't you? I bet daddy never taught you any discipline. But you're cute. Isn't he, guys?»

The two grunted with little interest.

«Let me go!» Draco yelled again, furiously trying to wriggle away. But there were three of them, and they were bulky and muscular, so he couldn't make them budge an inch. All three of them grinned as they looked down at him.

He was laying down in front of them, his arms so tense that his muscles were straining against his pale skin. His abdomen dipped slightly below his ribcage and his ribs were faintly visible underneath his skin.

«Please, let me go» Draco begged them.

«Oh, look at that, so now you know your manners? And I know one other interesting thing about you. That dumb gorilla you're always bringing along, the other day he was talking about how, when you were little, you were rolling around in a meadow and you jumped like a cricket just because he accidentally brushed your ribs. You're ticklish, Malfoy?»

«Let me go, now!» Draco tried to sound angry even though his heart had started beating too fast.

«You still think you can order us around?»

«My father...!»

«You're making things worse, kid»  
Draco struggled again and, once again, it was useless.

The boys all laughed together. Flint kept his palm raised above his chest: he started to lightly brush against his ribcage, using only his fingertips. Draco let out a series of strangled chuckles.

«You're really, really ticklish, aren't you?»

Saying that, he started to use his other hand as well, teasing the contour of his bellybutton before trailing up to his ribs. He traced figures with his fingers, moving from below upwards and then in reverse, slowing down at times and then speeding up the next moment in order to prevent him from predicting his next move.

«Stop it!» Draco screamed in the midst of his increasingly painful roaring laughter. The way his stomach kept cramping up was making it hard to breathe. «Please, stop!»

He kicked and arched his back, but the other boys were keeping him still with no effort, holding his wrists down in a vice-like grip

«Aren't you crying a bit too much?» one of the Beaters huffed, placing a hand on his wet, flushed cheek. He pulled it back as he felt his skin burn. «Is it normal?» he insisted with Flint, sounding nervous.

He didn't deign him with an answer. Draco's pleas also fell to deaf ears as the boy kept tickling him, lips curved into a smirk. He was looking for every critical point and, once he found one, he insisted on it with no mercy. Rotating a single finger in slow and infinite spirals, pinching him, scratching him with his fingernails until Draco burst into a series of sobs, spasms and frantic pleas that satisfied him.

«Flint, maybe this is enough» the same boy as before dared to insist. Through the wrist he was holding he could feel Draco's frantic heartbeat and, frankly, he was starting to feel uncomfortable. It was supposed to be a prank, a small revenge on the brat that irritated the whole team with his arrogance, and he hadn't expected him to react so strongly nor for Flint to drag things out so much.

«We've barely started, you idiot!» his teammate snapped.

Still he granted Draco a small pause. The boy gulped in big lungfuls of oxygen, still shaken by violent tremors, on his lips the taste of tears and sweat. Then, just when he least expected it, Flint made him flinch by taking off his shoes. He screamed in terror and the other two boys exchanged a nervous look. At this point, Draco was sweating so much that his thin wrists were slipping from their grasp.

«Lucian, hold his legs down!»

«Flint, I don't think that..»

«Hurry up!»

The boy resigned himself to play along. Even though he was clearly taller and bigger than him, he barely managed to keep Draco from kicking to keep Flint away. The Captain grasped one of his ankles and played with it, brushing it on its back where it wasn't ticklish, only adding to his terror and sense of helplessness. Then, with a sudden move, he brought all five of his fingers on his right heel and moved rapidly towards the plant of his foot. Draco trembled, coughed and gave in to a new wave of exhausted chuckles.

He was sweating so much that his hair was sticking to his forehead, and his stomach was twitching from the tickling and from his hysterical sobbing. «Please, stop», he gasped. «Please, I beg of you, I feel sick...»

«Already? That's why you keep making us lose, you don't have the slightest stamina, mister»

Draco whimpered.

«Look at me!» Flint ordered him. He snickered as he took notice of both the boy's obedience, and the tears and snot leaking on his face. His hair was a wild nest, ruffled up and puffed up from the sweat, his wide eyes reminded him of a terrified owl and, overall, that small prideful creature had been reduced to a trembling, sobbing mess, fully under his power. He enjoyed it far more than he had expected. His lips curved into a lopsided smile and he viciously pinched him in the centre of his foot. Draco spasmed.

«Flint, maybe...»

«You're pissing me off, say one other word and I'll kick you both out of the team!»

The two boys shut their mouth. But they really paled when Flint, surprising even them, took a goose feather out from his bag. They knew he was constantly risking to repeat the year since the very first one, and it had been Snape who ordered him to always bring along all he needed to be able to study whenever he had the occasion, but they never would have thought of using a quill in _that_ way.

With the utmost calm, Flint let it trail along the arc of Draco's right foot, starting from the heel and then inbetween his toes, already clenched from the nerves' stimulation.

His body reacted with such violence that the two boys struggled to keep him down even using their whole weight. Terrified, they watched him as he suddenly arched up his back, kicking with the wild fury of an animal and keened. His screams. Hearing them, fearing they might never forget them, they couldn't understand how Flint could keep going unperturbed, indifferent, moving the quill up and down both of his feet. His touch was light and relentless.

Then, as suddenly as he'd started, he stopped.

He watched as Draco gasped and, once he was released in response to Flint's nod, hid his face between his knees, curling up into a trembling ball. He waited patiently for him to regain enough lucidity to be able to talk to him.

«Did you learn your lesson?» Flint asked him in a perfectly calm and reasonable tone.

«Please, stop, I can't handle it...» he whispered in a faint tone of voice.

«Alright, for this time it's enough. Now shall we go out with a bang?»

Flint's malicious tone did not just make Draco's eyes grow wide, but the other boys' too, taken aback as much as he was. Flint flipped the younger boy around, pulled down his trousers and then slipped one hand in his pants in order to take those off as well. Draco kicked and screamed, in both shock and defiance.

«Don't touch me!» he struggled with renewed energy.

«I'm not doing anything, you depraved brat. What are you thinking? I just was thinking of making sure you know who's in command with a small reminder of this lesson. A nice picture to send to your daddy, what do you think?»

«Have you gone bonkers?» one of the boys hissed. «If you're that eager to be killed by Lucius Malfoy then I'm out of here!»

Flint was about to reply, but with a desperate spurt of rebellion Draco managed to kick him in the stomach and make him gasp. The two boys immediately used the chance to help him down from the bench. One even gave him a small push to make him hurry. He swiftly pulled up his pants and ran out of the changing room, risking to stumble down on his own feet more than a couple times. He let out a piercing shriek when Flint's hand grabbed him painfully by his hair. The older boy shook him, livid.

«You little shit...!»

He was stopped by Oliver Wood's shocked exclamation. «Flint! What... what's going on?»

 

 

Harry was left stunned, and so was the rest of his team.

They'd seen Draco dart out of the changing rooms so quickly that they froze in place, sure that he was going to break his neck, and they'd shuddered as they took in his appearance – barefoot, topless, his hair stuck to the sweat on his flushed, tear-stricken face. Then Harry turned pale once Flint appeared and, with a terrifying fury, pulled Draco by his hair and shook him.

Wood was the first one to snap out of it. He pierced the other Captain with an angry glare. Noticed he had some blonde strands through his fingers and saw red. He pushed himself inbetween Flint and Draco, shielding the younger boy with his body.

«What did you do to him?» he growled.

«Why do you care?» Flint spat out in response. «Think about your own players and let me handle mine.»

« _Handle?_ I don't mistreat my players, certainly I don't put my hands on any second-year kids! I'll ask you again: what did you do to him?» he turned towards Draco with a resolute expression. «Malfoy. Draco, right? Tell me what happened.»

«I... I don't...» Draco's horribly raucous voice, as if he'd been screaming for who knew how long, made everyone shudder. Harry noticed that Fred and George were serious and somber like he'd never seen them.

Flint clenched his teeth. «Don't you dare open your mouth, or I swear next time I won't merely play with you. Oh, don't look at me like that» he snapped at Wood, who now looked horrified. «I was playing, I told you. A little tickling never killed anyone, it's just that this brat always has to act like a drama queen».

Harry would have wanted to pay it no mind, really. After all Malfoy had always been rude with him, and that was putting it mildly, the feud between them had been going on since pretty much day one. Hell, recently he'd even suspected he might have been the psychopathic owner of who knew what sort of monster capable of petrifying people. But this wasn't about some malicious word or a mischievous kid's prank, he was painfully and uncomfortably aware of it. Draco looked distraught and, despite everything, Harry only felt the urge to ask him if he was ok. In a moment, his previous suspicions were also wiped away, seeming now ridiculous to him. A trembling, sniffling twelve-year-old like him _couldn't_ be the Heir.

«Snape will hear about this!» Oliver threatened, livid. «Damn it, Flint, you can't take it out on one of your team members if you lose the game!»

«Would you rather I take it out on _your_ Seeker?» he snickered.

Harry stiffened and didn't feel embarrassed in the slightest when the twins moved in front of him, bats in hand.

He thought Flint was only provoking Oliver, and that the threat of telling Snape everything would stop him from touching Draco again. The boy mostly confirmed his suspicions, grumbling something unintelligible and leaving without saying anything more.

At this point, Harry could foresee with perfect accuracy that Draco, surrounded by worried and sympathetic Gryffindors, was going to react in the worst way. It surprised him to realize he knew him so well, especially once he accepted the fact that he was scared, humiliated and rather pathetic, rather than malicious. It reminded him of the old toothless dog that growled against Dudley and his gang while they pointed at him.

«Are you ok?» Angelina Johnson gently asked, reaching out with her hand.

«Don't touch me, Mudblood» Draco hissed, pulling away.

Harry sighed. He almost wanted to ask him how in hell could he knew the blood lineage of every single student in the school. «I'll handle it» he quickly said, looking at Wood and taking Draco by his arm. «I'll bring him to the infirmary to take a calming draught».

«I don't need your help!»

«Shut up, Malfoy!»

Harry felt a bit of regret for his harsh tone, especially as Draco kept sniffling and talking with that raucous voice. But aside from feeling he was entitled to it – after a week spent being taken for a fool during Lockhart's lessons, the whisperings that followed him along the corridors and a perfect Quidditch victory that had just been spoiled by the Slytherins – he also thought it was the only way to get him to listen.

Surprisingly enough, he found out he was right.

Draco glared at him, yet he followed along as he walked towards the castle. Harry decided not to risk his luck by proposing to get back to the changing rooms to recover his shoes and shirt, merely hoping not to run into too many people.

«It was your fault», Draco accused him in a resentful whisper. He was following him, remaining a few steps behind him.

«That's not true!» Harry replied. «I won fair and square, which is something that you're likely unfamiliar with. It's not my fault if your teammates are a bunch of deranged, vengeful snakes.»

He turned to scowl at him and his heart sunk, torn between remorse and anger, when he saw that Draco was massaging his wrists. He hadn't noticed yet how blackened they were, marked by deep bruises in the shape of fingers.

«Look, I'm really sorry», he clumsily said. «Ask Snape to intervene or write to your father. This might be the only time you'd have every right to involve him».

«I don't want to...»

Harry was surprised. «And why?»

«Because I don't want him to think I'm weak. I want him to be proud of me.»

If Harry hadn't expected such a honest answer, it was immediately clear to him that Draco hadn't meant to give it either. He stiffened and clenched his lips. Harry was tempted to tell him that his father was a terrible person, a guy with a house full of Dark Magic items who was ruining him by spoiling him senselessly, so he might as well not try so hard to please him as it was a misplaced effort. But he held back at the last moment, realizing it would be cruel to do that now. Besides, he thought bitterly, he wasn't really in any sort of position to stick his nose into matters regarding parents and their children.

He slowed down and walked to his side wordlessly. Despite everything he felt a little bit of satisfaction when Draco didn't move away, merely accepting his presence with a sort of defeated resignation.

«Come on Draco, walk. I'll keep you company as you get visited.»

«How lucky...»

Despite his sarcasm, and even though he was in part still too shaken from what had happened to him to be fully lucid, Draco registered the fact that Potter had called him by his name for the first time.

He would have wanted to be home, back in his house and with his parents... but he swallowed back that wish and forced himself to settle for what was given to him at the moment.

 

 


End file.
